


Anemoia

by InquiryFoxtrot



Category: Sander Sides, Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: Human AU, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, References to Depression, im sad and i've got unrelatable issues, sorry logan, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquiryFoxtrot/pseuds/InquiryFoxtrot
Summary: Logan was told at a very young age that he had an incredible mind. His earliest memory was of his mother kneeling in front of him, telling him about the big beautiful brain God gave him. His teachers would wink at him when they handed back his assignments, unsurprised as another hundred was written across the top. They told him he could be anything.





	Anemoia

Logan was stuck, he wasn’t sure how he got there, or when, but he knew he was stuck in something stiff, sticky, and unmoving.

Stuck in a small bubble while the whole world passed him by. It felt like his entire life could go by and he’d still be right where he started. He didn’t mean this in a literal sense of course, he knew that once he’d finish high school, then college, and move away one day but mentally, he didn’t think anything would change. Logan felt like he was doomed do a nine to five week in some random suburban town, he’d have a pretty spouse, nice kids, a picket fence but he’d never be happy. He worried that he would never do anything remarkable, that he’d be another of a billion names forgotten as quickly as they were introduced.

_Altschmerz: (n) Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years._

It kept him up at night, lying still in his dark room as his thoughts raced inside him, shooting through his brain at lightning speeds, thinking of thousands of ideas and theories that fluttered in and out of him, teeming at the surface. Then he would dream of futures he wished he would have and eventually the future he wished he didn’t.

Logan was told at a very young age that he had an incredible mind. His earliest memory was of his mother kneeling in front of him, telling him about the big beautiful brain God gave him. His teachers would wink at him when they handed back his assignments, unsurprised as another hundred was written across the top. They told him he could be anything.

He was in third grade when his teachers suggested he skip a grade or two. Logan had been ecstatic. Regular lessons were so unbearably easy and he would give anything to have something be challenging, his teachers had tried to accommodate already; letting him work ahead several lessons, giving him harder books to read, assigning more homework, but it was clear that he was still bored. Eventually his teachers knew that staying where he was wasn’t an option so is favorite teacher at the time, Mr. Sanders, called Logan and his parents in for a meeting before school, ready to propose that Logan skip fourth grade.

His parents, apparently, weren’t as excited as he was. His father had frowned, an all too familiar crease forming between his brows.

“When will he learn the fourth grade course then? If he skips it then he’ll never learn it and isn’t it your job to teach my son everything he needs to become a man?” His father tutted, his deep voice looming over Logan.

“Most concepts are repeated throughout elementary school, it’s mainly math and science that changes. But Logan has already covered most new topics on his own already,” Mr. Sanders countered to his father, continuing when he sensed his father’s displeasure. “But if it truly bothers you then I promise that Logan could learn the entire fourth grade in only a couple weeks of summer school.”

Logan’s father still didn’t look pleased but ultimately kept his mouth shut. However, it was Logan’s mother that gave what Logan quickly realized was the killing blow.

“But what about his social life? All his friends are in his class,” Mrs. Wood, Logan’s mom, fretted while Logan internally screamed from his chair. He wasn’t friends with anyone in his grade, they were always mean to him for getting better marks than them.

“That wouldn’t be much of a problem,” Mr. Sanders interjected, trying his hardest to convince the stubborn parents. “In my personal experience I’ve found that children Logan’s age make friends easier than they would several years later in life, so this wouldn’t change Logan’s relationships with his peers all too much anyway. But I would like to add that Logan hasn’t really connected with any of his classmates now and perhaps moving up would give him a much needed change.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Mr. Wood forebode and Logan squirmed.

“Dad? I wa-” Logan tried to start before a sharp hand cut through the air and cut him off.

“Shush son, the adults are talking,” Mr. Wood said dismissively. Logan loved his dad but sometimes his disregard for Logan made him want to cry.

“Well wait a moment, don’t you think it’s important Logan gets a say in this? It is his life after all,” Mr. Sanders suggested and Logan was sure he’d never liked anyone more than his teacher then. Logan’s dad grunted, but nodded.

“I want to skip a grade,” Logan started quietly but Mr. Sanders prodding smile gave him confidence to continue. “School is- school is too easy, I’m always bored a-and I don’t have any friends in my class except for Virgil, but I see Virgil almost everyday anyway.” Mrs. Wood pursed her lip.

“We’ll think about it.” With that Logan’s parents gathered their bags and they went home.

Logan was sent up to his room while his parents conversed quietly about the meeting while Logan tried to eavesdrop on them. It became all too obvious that Logan was not going to skip a grade. He cried harder that night than he ever had before.

_Nodus Tollens: n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore_

When he was twelve his parents split.

He knew it was coming, the constant tension, the late night screaming when they thought Logan and his siblings were asleep (His siblings were. Logan wasn’t, he stayed up hours every night reading,) his mother sleeping in the guest room. But it wasn’t until he brought the small box of his things to his mother’s new apartment did the reality of the situation really sink in.

There was no more time for Logan. His father cursed his mother out every night, telling Logan more than he probably should have. His mother tried her best with the limited funds his father gave her and told Logan to keep watch on his siblings. So that’s what he did, when his father’s anger grew explosive he made sure to egg him on so the yelling was directed at Logan, he helped them with schoolwork, listened to his sister’s sobbing confusion over why mommy and daddy weren’t together anymore, trying so hard to explain to someone who’d never truly understand because they’d never heard the screaming. He kept this up, his strategic deflection, even when his father screamed that he’d never be anything, even when his siblings cried that he was uncaring, even when his mother barely had time to acknowledge him between work, his siblings and her social life.

When he was thirteen, he realized he was gay. It came up in a sleepover with Virgil, who’d been fawning over his crush in his math class, Patton. Logan had eventually admitted he liked Roman, a drama kid in his social studies class. It was close guarded secret, he never really connected with his mother so her views were unbeknownst to him but he knew how his father felt, a middle aged catholic man with a short temper and hatred for the world. Logan feared the worst.

So he lived his life, bored out of his mind everyday as he slowly desensitized himself to the horrid words that penetrated his icy exterior at home. He let Roman drag him into theater and he ignored the aching feeling in his chest that so desperately wanted more.

When he did finally come out it wasn’t because he was ready, well, he was but it wasn’t the reason. He just wanted something to happen. He almost wished for something catastrophic, something that would finally rock his all too stable world. He felt awful when he wished that, like a spoiled child wanting the dangerous adventures read about in fairy tales, but god he needed something new.

_Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire._

His mother was supportive, it mended something in their broken bond and started them on a path to recovery. He knew something good would happen between them. His father, however, just looked away, pretended he hadn’t heard only to scream how Logan was destroying his life and committing the most horrid of sins days later. Then it was… quiet. It was like Logan hadn’t come out at all.

His life was agonizingly slow yet it was speeding by at the same time and Logan wanted it to stop. He wanted to go back and fix things, but he also wanted everything to jump ahead in life and pretend this time had never happened. He wanted to finish school and abandon his life in this wretched town forever. He felt like he was in this “in-between” place, it was murky and grey and he hated it.

_Adomania: n. the sense that the future is arriving ahead of schedule_

By the time he was done with middle school he was top of his class by miles. He’d brought up specialized high schools to his parents before but all the ones in his area were too expensive, one of the curses of living in a suburban town. His father had been ecstatic when Logan asked about schools he could test into, his father had gone to one himself for highschool and he was secretly hoping Logan would follow in his footsteps.

It was a short lived dream.

He didn’t live in the school’s district and his Aunt had move his grandmother out of the area years ago. He’d never had a dream crushed so quickly. He didn’t talk to his Aunt for months.

_Liberosis: (n) The desire to care less about things._

But as much as Logan wished he could press pause on time, life went on.

The days passed slowly, he went to school, read ahead, worked ahead, doodled, daydreamed, slept, and excelled. No one noticed the defeat in his eyes, or how he was always tired. Because he was doing well, his grades never dropped, he had friends, a family, he seemed perfectly okay on the outside. But inside, he wanted to cry, just making it through the day felt like a struggle.

He so desperately wanted to reach out, he wanted to hold someone’s hand and cry into their chest and pretend that only they existed and that nothing else mattered. He wanted someone to listen to him, tell him that his feeling were valid, he needed someone hold him tight and assure him that it would all be okay.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Because why would someone listen to problems as dumb as his. So many other people struggled just to pass and here he was, complaining about being too good like a pretentious asshole.

_Exulansis: (n) The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it._

They’d never understand anyway. Patton struggled in school, it just never clicked in school for him, and it always angered Logan because Patton was a genius in his own right and a test grade wouldn’t change that but he tutored Patton anyway. Patton would listen if Logan asked him to but he’d never understand, not fully. He’d smile and nod but Logan knew there would always be that voice in the back of his head that didn’t get it.

And he loved Roman, he really did, they may not have gotten together but he truly was one of Logan’s closest friend. But he teased Logan for getting upset over anything under perfection, how would he be able to listen to Logan’s problems with a straight face.

And then there was Virgil. Sweet Virgil who’d been by his side since day one, Virgil who probably could and maybe already did understand how Logan was feeling. Logan wasn’t afraid to talk to Virgil either, they knew everything about each other, they knew each better than they knew themselves, they even planned to live together after graduation. But it was because Logan knew so much about Virgil that he could never talk to him about this, not now anyway. He wouldn’t burden Virgil with his problems when he already had so many to deal with on his own.

So he built walls, pretended he was okay. He flashed smiles when he needed to, he disputed worries when they arose and kept telling himself that it would all be okay.

_Rigor Samsa: n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties_

He decided it was enough reflecting for the evening and headed downstairs. His mother was at the kitchen table, nursing some rice and broccoli she’d made for dinner. A _steaming_ plate sat on the table in front of his chair, there were to empty plates on either side. He assumed his siblings had already finished eating.

He silently sunk into the chair and picked up his fork, swirling the food around before placing a tentative bite into his mouth. It tasted bland, like everything did lately.

“You’re siblings are at gymnastics in case you were wondering,” His mother piped up and Logan hummed. His two sisters both took gymnastics at the local gym, he’d forgotten that today was their class.

“Okay,” Logan said simply. An uncomfortable silence fell around them, only broken by the clink of silverware.

“So, how are you,” His mother asked, trying to break the tension around them.

“Fine.” Logan didn’t have the energy anymore to give a better answer.

“That’s- that’s good,” She said with a small sigh. “Have you finished your homework?”

“Yeah,” Logan said tiredly. He hadn’t, he was going to do it the period before and try to pretend it had been hard.

“Good,” She paused. “Have you started your project yet?”

“Mmhmm, already finished the essay,” Logan hadn’t done that either, he was going to do it the day before as a small way to present even the slightest challenge for himself. He stood up, pushing his plate away.

“You’ve barely eaten, where are you going?” His mother called.

“I’m not hungry tonight, okay?” Logan said, feeling oddly choked up. “I’m just going to go upstairs.”

“O-okay,” His mother responded, unsure of what to say. Logan doubted she would ever know how to speak to him.

He climbed up the stairs and sunk into his bed. He decided he’d take a nap, he had nothing to do and every inch of his body ached with a want he knew he’d never have. He closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek, as he slowly slipped out of consciousness he wished he could at least be something more in his dreams.

Spoiler alert, he wasn’t.

_Anemoia: n. nostalgia for a time you’ve never known_

**Author's Note:**

> Will writing a vent fic to cope with their very unrelatable and kind of annoying problems? It’s more likely than you think :)))))))))


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